Flame (an acrostic poem)

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Fires roared through the house, consuming everything in their path
Leaving behind black charred remains of a lifetime together
All of those bits of the past turned to smoke as if an offering to a non-existent deity
Mumbling to himself, the former occupant of the home shuffled in his slippers down the street
Everyone would be worried about his dementia, but if he couldn’t have those memories, no one would.

Etched (an acrostic poem)

Engraving the picture of her face on his soul

This way he could never forget her

Carter hoped that was the case

His Alzheimer’s was getting worse, and on his good days it scared him

Even on his bad days, he knew something was wrong

Dementia had carved so much out of his life

 

Image: leadbitterglass.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/etched_glass_person_13391.jpg